


Rise and Shine, Cas

by babybluecas



Series: and so you fell [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, MOL Bunker, fallen!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybluecas/pseuds/babybluecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up is hard, but Cas is getting used to this whole human morning routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise and Shine, Cas

Waking up is hard. Whether he's stirred awake by a nightmare or by the alarm clock he’s acquired not to snooze until noon. It always feels like he slept too little and it's hiding behind his eyelids, and in a yawn that’s trying to escape his throat for the rest of the day. However Dean has managed to survive on his alleged four hours; after a restless night of nightmares and counting sheep, for Cas that isn't enough.

Waking up is hard, because for a moment, when he's still stuck between the state of dream and the waking world, he forgets he's not an angel. Only in those few short seconds, he’s still got his wings and his grace. The sad realization comes all too soon, sometimes because of the ache in his neck, when he's slept in a wrong position. Most of the times, because he needs to pee.

He rolls off the bed, never without a low groan, then he stretches his arms and flexes his back to force the sleepy muscles to wake. His furry slippers feel balmy and so does the air around him, making slipping from under the covers that much easier. Bless the bunker for staying warm against the terrible, autumn cold outside.

Sometimes both Winchesters and Kevin are already awake by the time he gets to the main room, and the old walls echo their voices. Sometimes the room is empty and quiet and the whole place feels ancient, with his rushed footsteps being the only sound cutting through the air.

Cas likes it best when it’s just Sam, sipping his coffee by the map table, simply relaxed, without the laptop on or the papers and books piled before him, because it’s way too early for work. On those mornings, Cas stops on his way to the bathroom and pours himself some coffee instead. Sam shoots a smile at him with a “Mornin’, Cas” and they just sit there together like that, enjoying the company and the idle moment before a busy day.

The bathroom feels just a little bit colder than the rest of the bunker. Though, it might only be an illusion created by the snowy tiles and steel and glassy surfaces. It quickly fills up with hot steam, as Cas plays with the taps to balance the heat just right. Perfect temperature. Perfect water pressure.

The shower is his favorite part of the whole morning routine he’s slowly starting to get accustomed to, even if the very necessity is annoying. He steps under the stream, tipping his head, letting the water wet his hair, drip down his face and all over his body. His nostrils fill with a “manly” scent as he lathers the shower gel on every inch of his skin and then it mixes with some mint or orange when he shampoos his overgrown hair and slowly massages his scalp. He takes his time with the whole ritual whenever he can, stays under the stream a few minutes longer, before grabbing a towel and walking out.

He leaves a wet path of footsteps on his way to the sink, where his reflection’s waiting in the mirror. He’s learned the hard way not to stare for too long at it, not to think. It’s not easy to pretend you’re not what you are, standing eye to eye with yourself. Instead, he focuses on combing his wet hair and brushing his teeth and, occasionally, on the quick passes of the razor along his jaw. But he only ever shaves when he knows he’ll have to pose for an FBI agent on a hunt. Other than that, he just lets it be, and when there are no jobs for him for a longer time, the beard grows long and soft and thick, and he likes to stroke it with his fingertips and have it shield his face from the frost. And on those huntless, furry days, he thinks he’s really happy.

He spends the rest of the mornings wrapped tight in his dark blue robe, which supposedly matches his eyes, or so Dean murmured once, throwing it at him. From time to time he even cooks breakfast; scrambles eggs or makes piles of toasts while the bacon sizzles in the pan. If Dean’s up, they tend to compete at tossing pancakes, and those, with chocolate sauce, are Cas’s favorite. He’s developed quite a sweet tooth if he’s being honest, and even his coffee can’t pass without some sugar and a lot of milk anymore.

They eat together in the kitchen, all four of them. Their little, weird family; the Winchester Boys, the Ex-Angel and the Prophet of the Lord. They’re all tired from the inside out, with deep creases etched on their brows, sporting shadows under their eyes more often than not, yet still chatty, with the traces of their past selves resounding in their chuckles, and with a new determination to save the world once again.

Waking up is hard. And on some days it’s even harder than on others. But sitting there like that, watching the boys laugh, three extraordinary humans who just never give up, Cas knows that as long as he doesn’t, either, he will be fine.

  
  



End file.
